


Mello in the Mafia

by antigonebelladonna



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 16:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17584025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigonebelladonna/pseuds/antigonebelladonna
Summary: A short look into how Mello may have obtained such a high position in the Mafia. (tw: attempted rape/ non-con. stay safe, friends)





	Mello in the Mafia

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is just a short fic about how rough Mello’s life in the mafia might have been. I really enjoy Mello’s character (I think I’m the only one), and I’ve always been curious to know how he would get to be in the position he is in the criminal world in Los Angeles. The manga definitely skips over that. Obviously, I know absolutely nothing about about the mafia, so I’m sorry about how inaccurate this is.
> 
> There’s definitely a tw for sexual assault in this. No sexual acts actually occur, but it gets close. Please stay safe, guys :)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> x

Mello was half asleep when he heard the knock. 

He was leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed on his desk. He had found both of them at a flea market months ago when he first moved to America with nothing but the clothes on his back. He had stolen them, of course. It had taken him a while to puzzle out how to do it, but he figured it out when he put his mind to it. 

Just like everything else in his life. 

Living in Los Angeles and trying to work his way up the criminal underground and join the mafia was hard. Then again, he didn’t know what he had been expecting. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but making the move from the warm, comforting familiarity of Wammy’s house to a foreign country had been incredibly hard for him. Being young, inexperienced, and living alone in a cold, abandoned warehouse certainly hadn’t helped. 

Mello didn’t think about any of that anymore. Regret and uncertainty would only slow him down, and he was always moving forward. Forward to becoming a prominent figure in the underground of Los Angeles. Forward to finding Kira. 

Forward to surpassing Near. 

When the knocking came again, even louder this time, Mello jolted, his book slamming on the floor. He had been reading The Brothers Karamazov. It was easy for him to get bored sometimes. His line of work was often a lot of waiting. He couldn’t go from learning every day at Wammy’s house, doing advanced physics and calculus, and reading complicated literature, to doing nothing intellectually stimulating at all. 

Mello put his book on the desk and swept the dollar bills sitting on it into a drawer, sliding a knife in his back pocket. 

He walked slowly to the entrance, rolling his eyes again when there was banging on the door yet again. 

“I’m coming!” He called impatiently. He took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the heavy lock around the door. He had chosen to live in the roughest part of Los Angeles, and he had had to take precautions to make sure he wasn’t robbed every night. In the end, the precautions he took probably didn’t do shit. Mello knew anyone could probably find some way in through some boarded-up window. 

Whatever. If anything, they made him feel more secure. 

God. Since when had Mello ever cared about how he felt? 

When the door was opened, Mello put the lock in his back pocket as he wearily looked at who was standing there. 

Oh, Jesus Christ. Mello suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Not these bastards. 

“Hey, Mello,” Scotty said in his trademark honey-sweet southern drawl, a cigarette dangling from his ever-present curve in his lips. He was still wearing those lime-green glasses he had been wearing the first and only time Mello had seen him before. 

Ugh. 

Mello had never met someone with a southern accent before Scotty. If all of those country people in America were as slimy as him, Mello would make specific plans to never travel to southern America. 

Mello looked over at the man standing next to him, Kye, an intimidatingly tall beast of a man with dark skin and dreadlocks larger than Mello’s torso. He had to be at least 6’6, almost a foot and a half taller than Mello. As far as Mello could recall, had never heard Kye say anything. Mello wondered if he was mute. He certainly didn’t have a strong personality. For all Mello had seen, he followed Scotty around and did whatever he asked him to. 

Mello hated feeling inferior to anyone, and no one made him feel smaller than Kye.

“You.” Mello said pointedly at Scotty. He didn’t bother to hide the disgust on his face. 

“Now, now, Mello, there’s no need to be so rude,” Scotty drawled. 

“You’re here to pay me, right?” Mello asked. The only reason he would let anyone in like Scotty was because they owed him money. And Scotty and his human pet certainly did. He had planned a heist to rob a bank for them more than a month ago. He had heard it had gone well, but Scotty hadn’t returned like he said he was going to. 

Until now. 

“I wish it was just a courtesy call, but yes sir, that’s why we’re here,” Scotty replied. He spat out his cigarette on the floor and he ground the spark out under his heel. 

“You’re late. Three weeks late,” Mello said, looking at the cigarette on the ground with mild disgust. 

Scotty didn’t say anything. 

Mello rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just give me my money and leave so I never have to see you again.” He reluctantly opened the door and Scotty and Kye lumbered inside.

Mello strode over to the desk and stood behind it as they walked in front of it. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like letting anyone into his house. 

“Alright,” Mello said. “Seven thousand dollars, give it to me.”

“Right down to business, huh?” Scotty said, his smirk growing wider. 

Mello’s look of disdain grew. 

Scotty watched him, silent for a moment. Then he looked at Kye and said, “Hand it over,” 

Kye took out a plastic zip-lock bag from his huge trench coat pocket and put it on the table. 

Mello snatched it up. He unzipped the bag and took out a hundred dollar bill. He held it up to the light and squinted at it. 

Huh. It was actually genuine. He had been expecting the snake to give him fake money. 

“Alright. We’re done.” Mello said. He zipped the bag back up quickly. “Now you can go and we can both move on with our lives.”

Scotty looked at Mello for a long time before he said softly, “We’re not finished here yet, Mello.” 

Mello looked at him questioningly as he put the bag in a drawer in the desk. 

Kye suddenly pulled out a glock from his holster and pointed it at Mello across the desk, inches from his face. 

Mello sighed and looked down the barrel of the gun, raising a brow, resisting the urge to sigh. “We’re done here. The deal was I plan your heist, you pay me when it’s over, we all go home happy. As in you leave. You leave my house. Nothing else.”

“All I want to is for you to answer some questions for me. You answer me honestly and I leave and you keep your money. And your life. Sound good?”

“No,” Mello said, starting to get irritated. This was exactly what didn’t need: some smug bastard poking around and asking him questions about who he was and why he was there. 

“Just leave,” Mello continued. “We’re done talking.”

Scotty looked at him with disbelief. 

Mello stared back, unfazed. 

“Kye.” Scotty said. 

Almost immediately, Kye walked swiftly around the desk in a few strides and grabbed Mello by the collar of his shirt before he could react. He dragged him over to the concrete wall and shoved him against it, easily lifting him off the ground an inch or two. Mello struggled, but there was little he could do. Kye had at least a foot and a half and a hundred pounds on him. When it came down to strength, Mello was frustratingly inferior to almost everyone in this line of work. He grunted as he grabbed onto Kye’s hands and tried to pry them loose, but the man’s grip only tightened. 

Scotty walked over slowly to them, standing feet away from Mello. He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. “Do you think you’re really in a position to be challenging me, Mello?” He inhaled loudly and blew the smoke in Mello’s face. Mello grit his teeth and stared at him venomously, refusing to cough as his throat tickled. 

“So,” Scotty shook the ashes to the ground. “What’s a little pretty boy like you doing in such an ugly business? I mean, how old are you, fifteen, sixteen?”

Mello didn’t answer or change his expression. Jesus Christ, he hated this guy. 

“I need you to answer me, Mello.” Scotty nodded at Skye, and the man raised his fist. He savagely punched Mello several times, knocking his head against the wall. Mello took it as best as he could, only grunting in pain a few times. When he was finished, Mello’s head hung limply forward for a few seconds before he pulled it back, staring stonily at Scotty. Bruises were already forming on his face, along with a bloody nose and a few bleeding cuts. 

“Alright, now, Mello, let's try this again,” Scotty said. “Why do you have an accent? Where are you from?”

Mello’s lip curled. Scotty was a fucking idiot if he thought Mello was going to divulge that information. Or any, for that matter. 

Scotty raised a brow when Mello said nothing. He nodded again at Kye, and he pummeled Mello again. His head cracked against the stone wall again, and he squinted his eyes as his head exploded in pain.

“Nothing you do,” Mello spat blood next to Skye’s foot, his head spinning. “Is going to make me talk.”

Scotty put the cigarette in his mouth and bit it in place. “I believe you.” He walked closer and looked at Mello. “Maybe physical pain won’t get to you. However…” He put a finger on Mello’s chest and leaned in closer. “I do know of some other ways to gain information.”

A wave of nausea swept over Mello. “Get the hell away from me,” He spat. Skye lifted him further up the wall and he grunted. 

“Tell me what I need to know or I’ll take the information out of you very…” Scotty looked down at Mello. “Personally.” 

Mello’s stomach twitched. Oh, God. He struggled again and looked at Skye, but the man looked virtually emotionless, like usual. Was this a normal occurrence for Scotty?

Ugh. That wasn’t pleasant to think about. 

Scotty put his full hand on Mello’s chest, and Mello strained to get away from him. Scotty leaned in even more and smirked. “I think I see some fear there, Mello. You want to answer my question?” His hand slid to Mello’s waist, and he jerked under the touch.

No. No way in hell was this happening. This kind of thing didn’t happen to him, not to Mello. 

Skye suddenly released Mello, and he started to slide to the floor, but he managed to keep himself standing up. Scotty’s hands were off of him for a moment, but then they were back on Mello’s waist. Mello growled and shoved him aside with his shoulders. He tried to get up, but Scotty shoved him into the wall, and he hit his head again. Mello’s head was spinning, and he felt the hands on his waist again. 

“Get…your…hands…off of me,” He growled. 

The hands squeezed his skin and slid down further. Mello could feel them touching his hips. 

Scotty leaned forward and whispered in Mello’s ear: “This won’t be unpleasant for me, but if you don’t start talking…” 

Mello gave him a look he hoped channeled fuck you but was worried channeled more please stop touching me or I am going to cry. 

Was the humiliation he would face with Scotty doing…this to him be worth it? Would it be so bad if he just told him his real name and that he was from Wammy‘s house in England? 

Scotty was leering above Mello as he shoved him until he was flat on his back. He sat on Mello, and he gasped under the weight. Scotty tugged down Mello’s leather pants, and his head was suddenly buzzing so loudly he couldn’t hear anything. His lips parted and he tried to speak, but found he didn’t have the breath. 

Mello wanted to fight back, but he felt frozen. He just wanted it to be over. He was almost relieved when he felt himself slipping out of consciousness. He almost couldn’t fell Scotty’s fingers on his waist…

Mello was broken out of his stupor by the sudden sound of doors crashing open and a loud gunshot. He felt Scotty’s body jerk on top of his, a howl of pain, and then gurgling. His grip on Mello loosened, and he leaned limply into Mello, who felt his already churning gut twist in disgust. He threw himself blindly out to the side, and he felt a hand reach for his shoulder. He threw himself away again, just now starting to fully gain consciousness. He looked up wildly just in time to see Skye lumbering towards them. 

Mello scrambled away from him on the floor, wildly trying to get away. He glanced next to him and saw Scotty laying belly down on the floor. There was blood almost gushing out of his mouth as he was gasped desperately for air. Mello’s face contorted in disgust. 

There was another gunshot, and Mello looked up just in time to see Skye falling to the ground, also gasping for air. Mello scrambled away even further, horrified. His heart was still thumping wildly. He pressed himself against the cold, hard wall, shaking. 

“Get them out of here.”

Mello looked up to see an extraordinarily tall man, around the same height as Skye, standing in front of his desk, looking utterly…bored . He was bald and pale, wearing what was clearly an extremely expensive suit with an impressive amount of gold jewelry. He was clearly in charge here. 

Several men walked over to Scotty’s and Skye’s bodies and dragged them off. Mello looked away as he saw trails of blood on the concrete floor. 

Mello wiped a hand against his face, and he was surprised to feel blood running down his nose. 

God, his head was pounding. 

“Are you the boy known as Mello?” The man in charge suddenly asked, crossing his arms. 

Mello looked up in surprise, seeing that the man was closely watching He looked around guardedly, not liking the situation he was finding himself in. He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly realizing how cold he was. Why the hell did this huge group of men, no doubt members of a prominent gang, have to find him the one moment in his life when he was so weak? “That’s—” He broke into a fit of coughing. “That’s me.” He rasped, cursing himself. He knew he looked pathetic. 

“We’re not here to hurt you, Mello,” The man said in a strangely kind voice. 

Mello just stared at him. 

“We seem to have caught you in an intimate moment.”

Mello squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and looked away. “What the hell do you want?”

“You don’t have to worry about that with my men. That man was the lowest of the low. I’ve been meaning to… dispose of him for a while now.”

Mello was too tired to appreciate the irony of a gang boss in Los Angeles finding another gang member ‘the lowest of the low.’ “Just tell me what you want,” Mello spat. He was past the point of caring if he sounded disrespectful anymore. 

The man looked surprised, then he chuckled.

Mello blanched. Not what he was expecting. 

“You remind me of myself when I was younger,” The man said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Mello raised a brow. That was surprising, to say the least. He didn’t know he had made that much of an impression on the crime scene in Los Angeles already. It had only been five months since he had moved from England. 

“You’re quite the genius, huh?”

Mello shrugged. 

“You’re too modest,” He smiled. “My name is Rod Reiss.”

Mello was taken aback yet again. Rod Reiss? His eyes widened. Mello had heard that name everywhere, from every other person he had done jobs for. He was infamous in the underground community. He was more rich and powerful than half of Hollywood. He ran more than half of the drug cartels and human trafficking rings in California. He probably owned Los Angeles, for all Mello knew. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mello,” Rod said. 

“Likewise,” Mello replied. 

Rod smiled again. “Look, I came here today because I’ve heard of your incredible intelligence. You’ve planned heists and given advice to people that have both helped me and my men and hurt them. I want someone like you working for me.” He watched Melli’s reaction closely, who was still watching guardedly. “Hearing this proposal,” he continued. “What would you have to say in reply?” 

Mello looked up at him. He almost couldn’t believe it. This was exactly what he had been looking for. When he had first moved here months ago, he had thought he would have to claw his way up the system every inch of the way just to get his way into a gang, but here was the leader in one of the biggest groups in Los Angeles, asking him to be one of his chief advisors. 

He smirked. If only Near could see him now. He was about to further than Near would ever be, sheltered and pampered at Wammy’s house. Mello was going to earn everything he got. He was going to achieve everything he had told them he would. 

He slowly got to his feet, ignoring the amount of pain he was in. He spat blood before saying, “Mr. Reiss, I would be honored.”

Rod smiled and walked over to him. He held out a hand, and he and Mello shook. 

“Welcome, Mello,” Rod said. “You’ll be moving immediately.”

“I’m ready now,” Mello said. “There’s only one thing I want to grab.” He strode over to the table and grabbed his fur trimmed leather jacket. He swung it over his shoulders and reached into the pocket, getting out a chocolate bar. He looked at the money Scotty had given him for a few seconds, but he left it there and walked away. 

Mello bit into the chocolate bar. “I have some things I would like to discuss with you if we’re really doing this,” He told Rod. 

Rod nodded and looked at his men. “Get the car ready. We’re pulling out now. Get rid of the bodies. We were never here.”

There were several “yes sirs” around the room as they got on their jobs, holding the door open for Rod and Mello. 

Mello looked back one in the building last time before he walked out, Rod close behind him. He would have it burned. He didn’t want to ever be reminded of what had just happened. 

Everything was going to change now. He was going to find Kira, and he was going to get him before Near even got the chance to find Mello.


End file.
